Psycho Babble
by Steel Kiba
Summary: Two insane orators engage in a war of words and wrestling holds. One is guided by his sister's voice, the other by pure rage. Just who is the master? Who will step up in WWE? And just who is Sister Abigail?
1. Chapter 1

"WHAM!" The crowd gasped and shouted as Fandango's head slammed into the canvas. The dance master's body slumped to the side and was easily rolled on its shoulders under the heavy weight of his opponent.

"One, two, three!"

The referee's count and the threefold chime of the ring bell preceded the all-too familiar words that came from ring announcer Justin Roberts' mouth.

"Here is your winner: Bray Wyatt."

The hulking demon of a man rose to his feet, throwing his hands in the air. Moisture dripped from his long, wild hair, darkening his already pitch-black sleeveless shirt, the ring mat, and falling on his writhing opponent. A few strands of hair clung to his face, obstructing the wide smile he flashed to the mass of spectators watching the newest wrestling house show.

A few men cheered Wyatt as he swayed to the sound of "Broken Out in Love" booming through the air. Many other fans booed.

"Follow the buzzards!" Wyatt yelled, his giddy smile never fading. He stepped through the white ring ropes and walked to the back curtain as the referee helped Fandango to his feet.

Wyatt cleared the curtain and came up to his two associates; tall, grungy individuals that relished in causing havoc with him on a regular basis.

"I told him what would happen," Wyatt said.

"You sure did," Luke Harper said, pushing his stringy black hair back. Erick Rowan, the third Wyatt Family member, nodded his head, his expression concealed by a roughed-up sheep mask.

The three lumbered off to the locker room, passing a few other wrestlers along the way. Each of them looked unnerved, the usual reaction after the Wyatts performed. All except one. Behind a corner, a young man with a leather jacket, frazzled brown hair, and a sour scowl on his face stepped out and watched the three move along. Dean Ambrose chuckled and smirked, shuffling off toward the curtain.


	2. Chapter 2

_Monday_ _Night_ _RAW_ arrived with the usual hustle and bustle two nights later in Tulsa. The lights were bright, the music loud, and the wrestlers were doing their best to electrify the crowd.

Backstage, a small group of wrestlers congregated around one of the monitors, intently watching a non-title contest between the WWE Tag Team Champion Uso Brothers and Titus O'Neil and Heath Slater. Ambrose stood off to the side near the corner, keeping his eyes on the fight. The contest had actually been going on for more than ten minutes, with both groups looking evenly strong. That is, until Slater Gator ate a pair of superkicks from the champs. Jimmy Uso tossed Slater outside the ring while Jey took to the top rope.

"Here we go!" Michael Cole said from the ringside announce table.

"Get your camera ready!" JBL added. The former world champion barely finished his sentence as Jey leapt into the air and splashed O'Neil. The crowd counted loudly with the referee as three seconds passed and the champions claimed victory.

"Here are your winners, The Usos!" Roberts announced. The twin brothers embraced in the ring as O'Neil and Slater stumbled to the back.

"Who's going to stop these Uso brothers? They're awesome!" Jerry Lawler asked.

"I don't know, but hats off to Slater Gator," JBL replied. "They really gave 'em a run for their money tonight!"

The defeated Slater Gator made their way behind the curtain to a round of applause from those in the back.

"Way to play!" Justin Gabriel said, clapping Slater on the shoulder.

"Hell of a match," Cesaro congratulated, slapping O'Neil's hand.

The team thanked the group who applauded them, giving high-fives and going to the water cooler.

"One step closer, baby!" Slater called, taking a huge gulp from his water bottle.

"Yeah, yeah, man," O'Neil answered, pouring some water over his head.

The well wishing continued as Jimmy and Jey came backstage. While the wrestlers kept talking, an agent motioned to Cesaro and Ambrose.

"Dean, Tony, you guys are up in five!" the agent yelled.

Ambrose came from behind the corner and Cesaro walked up alongside him. He brushed off the sleeves on his training jacket and put a white towel around his neck.

He turned to Ambrose and nodded. "Let's have a good one."

Ambrose returned the nod. "You bet," he said, shaking his head and taking a couple of breaths.

A loud siren blared over the PA system. Cesaro walked through the curtain and onto the metal stage as his music played. His entrance would run into the commercial break. Ambrose shifted his hands about, waiting for the go-ahead.

"Ready?"

Ambrose turned toward the voice behind him. A man in shiny black wrestling gear and two-tone hair stood behind him, clutching the golden Money in the Bank briefcase.

"Always, Seth. Why?" Ambrose inquired.

Seth Rollins shrugged. "Just asking. This match and the last one don't seem to have a direction."

"Theirs, yeah," Ambrose responded. "Usos are great but they need new blood to fight. And Heath and Titus have too much talent to be in a nowhere tag team."

"But what about your match? You have some plan?"

"Whatever there is, I'm not giving it away, paly. Don't love ya that much."

Rollins snickered. "That good? Alright, man. We'll see." He patted Ambrose's shoulder and walked off.

Cesaro's theme faded and was replaced by the rev of an engine. As Ambrose's hard rock music began, he sauntered through the curtain as Roberts announced his name; the introduction could barely be heard live as the fans cheered loudly for Ambrose. He wrinkled his eyebrows and quickened his pace, sliding into the ring and barreling into Cesaro. The two traded blows immediately as the bell rung for the match to begin. The Lunatic Fringe and the King of Swing exchanged butterfly suplexes, various punches, and neckbrakers (among other holds) for the next fifteen minutes, the people roaring in approval.

Finally, Ambrose had Cesaro on the outside. He pushed off the ropes and launched himself into his opponent, much to everyone's delight.

"Look at Ambrose go!" Cole shouted as Ambrose picked Cesaro up and tossed him in the ring, ready for the kill.

"Wait, wait. Look who's on the stage!" Lawler yelled.

"What the..." Cole began. "Bray Wyatt!"

Wyatt stood alone on the Raw stage, wearing a faded green Hawaiian shirt and white chino pants. He ran a hand across his frizzy beard and folded his arms across his chest. His other hand held a microphone.

Ambrose saw Wyatt out of the corner of his eye, but he continued to focus on the match. He lifted Cesaro to his feet, preparing to drive his weary head into the canvas with Dirty Deeds.

"You're not crazy, Dean! You're not crazy!"

Ambrose loosened his grip on Cesaro and looked wild-eyed at Wyatt, who paced back and forth on stage as he droned.

"Not crazy, my man. Look at me." Wyatt stopped and roared into the microphone, "Look at me! Look at me, Dino!"

Ambrose moved to the ropes, ready to charge the Eater of Worlds. He had no chance to, however, as Cesaro clotheslined him from behind. The Swiss Superman grabbed Ambrose by the middle and threw him in the air, rocking his jaw with a Very European Uppercut. The commentators and the fans all exhaled in shock as Cesaro covered Ambrose for the three count.

"Distractions cost Ambrose again!" JBL said as Cesaro was announced as the victor.

"Yeah, but what does Bray mean? Why is he here?" Cole asked.

Wyatt remained on stage as Ambrose rolled to the side of the ring in pain and Cesaro left the ring. Wyatt laughed and laughed into the microphone, dropping to his knees.

"Look at me, Dean. You know you aren't crazy." He said as the Wyatt Family graphic flashed on the Titantron. Then, the whole arena went black.


	3. Chapter 3

"Damn, man! That looked painful!"

"Ah. Just a little bit."

Ambrose was sitting backstage after the match, holding a nice pack to his throbbing jaw. Pain was the one constant in professional wrestling, and so was a near broken jaw when you took a Very European Uppercut from Cesaro.

After Ambrose and Cesaro came back from the ring, Roman Reigns immediately went to see his former Shield teammate. The chiseled, longhaired heavyweight couldn't believe what just happened.

"But seriously, Bray's getting involved now?" Reigns asked. "_That's _money_."_

Ambrose said nothing about the matter. "Don't you gotta fight Orton again?"

Reigns tightened his gloves and struck his Kevlar-covered chest. "Yeah. Why you dodgin' the question?"

Ambrose chuckled. "A storyteller doesn't give away his whole tale at once. You understand? And no, Bray won't talk either."

"Whatever, man. I got my own business." Reigns replied. Just then, an agent motioned toward Reigns to go to the ring. Him and Randy Orton were closing out the show, and the cameraman had to film both of them going down the halls to the stage.

"Good luck, Superman," Ambrose said as Reigns went to leave. Reigns nodded and went on his way. Ambrose leaned against the wall, pressing the frozen pack to his face and sighing.

All too soon, the WWE was on the move to tape _Main Event_ and _SmackDown! _innearby Muskogee. The lights flashed and the pyro burst with fury as _Main Event _was ready to kick off. As soon as the fireworks faded in thick smoke, the Titantron flickered and static screeched as the lights went out. The crowd began to rise and hold up their cellphone lights as the Wyatt Family appeared on the screen.

"Muskogee..." Bray Wyatt began, striking a match and lighting his lantern. "We're here." He blew the flame out and the eerie music came on.

"Catching flies...in his mouth. Tasting freedom...while he does."

The crowd was split. Jeers mingled with cheers as the WWE Universe swayed to the beat, cellphones illuminating the darkened arena.

Wyatt, Rowan, and Harper smiled as they trudged down the steel ramp and to ringside. There was a wooden rocking chair in the middle of the ring, and Bray sat in it, rocking back and forth as his followers stood by his side.

The music stopped, and Harper retrieved a microphone from announcer Eden Styles, who got away from the trio as fast as possible. The hairy, greasy-looking man handed the microphone to Wyatt, who gripped it and continued rocking in the chair.

"They call me crazy, man." Wyatt started. "They say I must be born crazy, I must be perfecting my crazy act. What act? And why am I crazy?" He paused and laughed, planting his feet and stopping the movement of the chair.

"When I say I am the Eater of Worlds, that I have a thousand faces and a million names, I mean it. When I say you can't hurt me, I mean it." He rose and walked to the ropes. "When I say you can't kill me because I am already dead, I mean it!" he said, his voice rising into a yell.

Wyatt paced in front of his cohorts. Green-clad Rowan tilted his head, his hairy face obscured by his sheep mask. Harper's eyes widened and widened, shining in contrast to his dull, stained wifebeater shirt.

"Intention isn't crazy." Wyatt continued. "Mission isn't crazy. The love I have for you and the hate I have for the world isn't crazy! And this isn't a plea to believe me. This is fact." He laughed some more. The whole crowd fell silent, enraptured and fearful of what the man would say next.

"And surprisingly, I'm not the only one who is this way. At least one other soul holds such truths to his heart. So much the same! And yet so different."

Wyatt paused again to soak in the silence. No crowd noise, no quips from the commentators, nothing.

Wyatt went to finish, removing his hat and shaking his hair about his head. "But that man is not who I must meet tonight. Another of your heroes wishes to see me. And who am I not to oblige?"

Wyatt tossed the microphone aside. The rumble of drums filled the air and the lights came back on. The people cheered with fervor as Jack Swagger, the Real American, took to the upper stage. With a deadly serious look in his eye, the home state hero put his hand to his heart and shouted "We The People!" along with each and every person in the audience. As the words were said, Swagger bolted to the ring and into the fray...


	4. Chapter 4

Swagger bolted right into the ring, heading straight for Wyatt. Rowan and Harper went to the outside, taking the chair with them. Wyatt immediately began pummeling the blonde Oklahoman, fists rebounding off his back.

After a few seconds, Swagger rose up and thrust the patriarch into the corner, striking him with fists and feet to the crowd's delight; the referee could barely keep Swagger off of Wyatt, almost counting to five.

The viewers at home saw that the camera switched to the backstage area. Ambrose stood by a monitor, wiping his hand across his face as he watched the match.

Swagger backed off, throwing his arms back and bellowing, his bright blue singlet gleaming under the lights. Before he could turn around, he was rammed into the mat by a flying forearm from Wyatt. Wyatt moved into the corner next to the prone hero, chuckling as strands of hair fell near his mouth. His partners on opposite sides of the ring didn't move a muscle.

The disturbing man picked Swagger up by his hair, smiling all the while. Suddenly, Swagger threw his arms over Wyatt's body and threw him down with a Red, White, and Blue Thunder Bomb.

"Swagger with a huge powerbomb! This could be it!" play-by-play man Tom Phillips exclaimed. The WWE Universe was equally as excited.

Swagger gripped Wyatt's right ankle and torqued it with his signature Patriot Lock. The Eater of Worlds screamed in pain, having nowhere to go in the middle of the ring. Rowan climbed up to the ring apron, the referee trying to head him off. Meanwhile, Harper made it into the ring, rotating and leveling Swagger with a discus clothesline. The referee called for the bell as the Wyatt Family assaulted Swagger.

Wyatt hobbled to a vertical base as Rowan and Harper stomped away at Swagger.

"You call yourself the hero, Jack?" he shouted. He pointed to his followers and then to himself. "We the people, Jack! We the people!"

Just as the two dragged Swagger up and the boos reached a crescendo, the arena filled with cheers from the audience as Ambrose slid into the ring and went right for the leader. Wyatt quickly evaded the tackle, slipping through the ropes. Harper went to attack, but fell back due to a frenzied Lou Thez press from Ambrose. He punched away at Harper, forcing Rowan to let go of Swagger and grab Ambrose.

Rowan snarled at Ambrose, his teeth barely visible through his large red beard. At that moment, Swagger tackled him from behind and hoisted the big man up, throwing him over the top rope. Ambrose kicked at Harper, making him roll to the floor below.

"I bet the Wyatts never saw that coming!" Phillips said, his partner nodding in agreement.

The Wyatt Family regrouped near the end of the entrance ramp, the crowd cheering and cheering. Swagger challenged them to keep fighting while Ambrose threw off his black sweat jacket and came up to the ropes. Rowan and Harper were enraged, but Wyatt held them back, never losing his joyful demeanor.

"You're here! You're among we the people!" Wyatt called out. "Thank you for answering the call!" Ambrose's music played as the Wyatts speedily made it back behind the curtain.

Later that night, before the _Main Event _tapings concluded, a graphic appeared on the Titantron, revealing the _SmackDown!_ main event to be Ambrose and Swagger vs. Harper and Rowan.

Ambrose was hanging out in one of the hallways away from the cameras, downing another bottle of water; it must have been his tenth that day at minimum. Swagger came through the hallway and stopped when he reached Ambrose.

"That next match is gonna be a hard hittin' son of a bitch," Swagger said.

"So you mean it'll be fun?" Ambrose replied, shaking his wild hair about.

Swagger laughed. "Of course."

"What did they say about it?"

"Nothin' much. Harper said it was a shame they didn't think of 'We the People' for their act first."

Ambrose sniggered and went to go to the locker room. "Thought they weren't supposed to be people."


	5. Chapter 5

_SmackDown! _was abuzz with plenty of intrigue by the time the second hour of taping rolled around. Seth Rollins vs. Roman Reigns was announced as the main event, per COO Triple H's instructions, of course, AJ Lee and Natalya fought to a double count out for the number one contendership to Paige's Divas Championship, and Goldust edged out Jey Uso thanks to some interference from his brother.

A lone camera ran in the boiler room area. The fans roared as Dean Ambrose appeared on-screen. He lightly swayed from side to side, keeping his head low.

"Bray," he began in his punch-drunk drawl. "We've met before. We've went to war, bathed in the fires of Armageddon. And well, since we've taken separate paths, nothing's changed."

He stopped to take a breath and let out a small laugh. "You love doom, destruction, beatin' people up just as much as I do! But there's a couple differences between us. You ramble on and on with your little riddles, you crawl around like Linda Blair givin' everyone them bug eyes, talkin' to that long dead sister of yours!"

Ambrose stared right into the camera, his mouth gaping a bit. "I love to talk too. But I don't have a phantom telling me what to do. I don't have two wannabe horror movie truckers to protect me. I come from anywhere at any direction. And I back up everything I say! To quote you, Mr. Wyatt: Run."

As the young man lowered his head again, the feed cut out, static sputtering as the whole arena went black.

"He's got the whole world...in his hands! He's got the whole wide world...in his hands..."


	6. Chapter 6

Sweat cascaded off of both Rowan and Swagger as they grappled in the middle of the ring. Both pushed and both gritted their teeth, but Swagger was losing the struggle. Wyatt's disciple was forcing the patriot to a near-pin position as his arms collapsed into his body; he barely kicked out at two.

Ambrose was strewn out on the apron, panting and clutching his stomach. He replayed the last few daunting minutes in his head. After the Wyatts (sans their leader) seemingly teleported to the ring after the arena lights went out, bedlam ensued. Both he and Swagger rushed to the ring and brawled with Rowan and Harper. Originally, Ambrose had Harper on the ropes before the former trucker nailed him with a big boot. After a few more slams, he barely tagged in his partner, and that led to the crazies on the other side of the ring getting the advantage.

"What a shot!" JBL called from ringside as Rowan countered Swagger's advance with a huge forearm. The fans cheered as Swagger powered out of a pin, but booed as the fiery-bearded man tagged in his partner. Harper immediately clutched Swagger in a headlock and rolled through with the Gator Roll.

"Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah," Harper droned as he rose. He went to his corner and brought Rowan into the fray again. This time, the brute slapped a chin lock on Swagger and waited for his prey to give up. The fans would have none of it, chanting "We the people!" at the top of their lungs.

As Swagger tried to battle back, Ambrose slid off the ring apron and began to amble over to his opponents' corner, the fatigued footfalls of his boots seeming heavier and heavier. He forced himself up to the ring apron where Harper was and launched himself at the man, making the crowd yell like mad.

"And here comes that Lunatic Fringe with a vigorous assault!" Phillips shouted.

"This is why we love Dean Ambrose!" JBL added as Ambrose hammered away at Harper with stomps and punches, much to Rowan's astonishment. He lifted the big man to his feet by his head and, with one huge swing back, thrust him into the floor with Dirty Deeds. Ambrose then hoisted Harper's limp form up and tossed him into the crowd area, going to continue the assault.

As Rowan stood in shock, Swagger jerked the giant's right leg out from under him and twisted his ankle with the Patriot Lock, dragging him to the center of the ring. The Wyatt vassal roared in anguish, but with nowhere to go, he had no choice but to tap out.

"Swagger did it! Jack Swagger with the big hometown win!" Phillips cried as the bell rung, Rowan rolled out of the ring, and the referee raised the victor's hand.

"How's that for a turnaround? Zeb'll be real proud now!" JBL said.

Swagger stood in the middle of the ring, buckling with exhaustion. He still rose up, put his hand over his heart, and shouted "We the people!" along with the elated fans.

A short time later, the cameras were rolling in the backstage area. Ambrose was walking trough the area at a slow pace, wiping his face off with his hoodie sleeve. Suddenly, he stopped. A few seconds passed, Ambrose turning his head about.

"Where are you Bray?" he asked. "Come out!"

"Well done, Dino," a voice uttered. Nobody was there. "I'm everywhere, too, even if you can't see me. But I'll see you Monday." As Wyatt's childlike laughter rang out backstage, Ambrose checked behind crates and backstage equipment. Nobody was there.

"Cut!" a voice cut in. Ambrose breathed deep and tried to push his medium-length bangs back.

"Need to get a trim," he said as they fell close to his eyes.

"Maybe around the back, but keep the bangs. They make you look good."

Ambrose grunted as Wyatt came from behind the camera crew and their equipment.

"Totally, darling," Ambrose jested in a girlish tone. "I could say the same for you."

"Yeah, a clean-cut hillbilly assassin," Wyatt said, laughing. "Seriously, boss work tonight, especially with the promo."

"Thanks, Windy," Ambrose replied. "I think I earned a cold one after that match. You wanna join?"

Wyatt shook his head. "Nah dude. Gotta hit the hay early. Autograph signing and radio tomorrow. I'll catch you guys in Rockford." The WWE would be in Illinois over the weekend, culminating the trip with a _RAW_ in Chicago.

"A'ight," Ambrose said as he began to walk off. "You'd better be in for a couple Chicago dogs with the boys. One of our only cheat days."

Wyatt chuckled again and slapped his stomach. "Gotta watch my figure somehow."


	7. Chapter 7

"How do you deal with that beard?"

"Just a big ol' hair net. Haha!"

Wyatt laughed hard as he shook the fan's hand and sent him on his way with his autograph. So many people had jokes this week, and it suited him fine, especially at this kind of event. He sat in the middle of an Illinois mall wearing full Bray Wyatt regalia, signing 8X10s, taking pictures with WWE fans, and answering their questions. Since there were so many people, Wyatt said he could only answer one question per fan, but answered any and all queries.

"Who would win in a fight?" one teenage boy asked. "You or AJ Styles?"

"Unless he ditches that Styles Clash and uses the Pele Kick as his final move, he won't survive long."

"Are you the missing Devil's Reject?" another man posed.

"I never knew I applied to join him. You guys seemed to accept me though, and that's fine with me."

"You really should be world champion," a young woman said, her voice trembling with excitement and nervousness. "You're so awesome! When will you get the belt?"

"Baubles are merely the spoils of war, my dear. They'll come, but I'm very invested in the brutality."

And on it went for the next hour. Finally, with a half hour to go, a lady with two children, about eight or nine years old, came up to the front of the line.

"And who do we have here?" Wyatt asked.

"My name's Scott, and that's my sister Jessica. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Wyatt," the boy said, extending his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Scott," Wyatt said, shaking his hand. "Nice grip! Your folks are raising you right."

"Thank you," the kids' mother said, nudging Jessica forward. "He's your biggest fan. Jessica, well..."

"You can't beat Dean!" Jessica almost shouted, crossing her arms. "He's way better than you!"

"Jessica!" the lady cautioned.

Wyatt chuckled. "We'll just have to see. Dean's a tough guy, but so am I."

As he signed their pictures, he leaned over to the mother and said, "Hey, some fans like Batman, others like the Joker. Their reactions either way are often the best part of my job."

Wyatt turned to the kids and said, "So, you have anything you want to ask?"

"Why do you call your finishing move 'Sister Abigail'?" Scott piped up.

"It's a tribute to my long-gone sister, Abigail. She inspires me to talk how I talk and do what I do in the ring," Wyatt replied.

"Is she dead or something?" Jessica interjected.

"Jess, it's not nice to interrupt," her mother said.

"No, no, that's a great question!" Wyatt answered. "She can read between the lines. All I'm gonna say is that you just have to keep watching and find out." He winked at the kids.


	8. Chapter 8

A few days later, _Monday_ _Night_ _RAW _found itself playing host to a raucous rabble of Chicago fans. As Damien Sandow once again tangled with Adam Rose during the _Superstars_ tapings, the crowd turned on the repetitive match, hailing the men with chants of "CM Punk!" and "Cutler's Better!"

"Brutal, brutal," O'Neil said, peeking outside the curtain.

"Tough customers are sometimes the best," Ambrose noted, watching Sandow execute the Silencer on Adam Rose. Instead of kicking out like usual, the referee counted to three, handing Rose his first loss on TV.

As the bell rung, Sandow, dressed in garb that had him resemble Dick Butkis, jumped around like a child as he went up the ramp, yelling "I won!" over and over.

Sandow moved past the curtain and jogged inside, headed to the locker room. As Ambrose and O'Neil watched him go, they saw John Cena coming over near one of the cameras, a kid of about eleven or twelve by his side; the boy was wearing a "Make A Wish" shirt and held a replica WWE World Heavyweight Championship belt.

"That's just awesome," O'Neil said, smiling wide.

"You said it. I'd love to do something like that," Ambrose added, putting his hands in his jeans pockets.

The two walked over to Cena and the boy as they finished talking in front of the camera. The boy's face lit up when the two wrestlers came over.

"Hey buddy. Enjoying our world?" Ambrose asked as he held out his hand for the kid to slap five.

"Yeah!" the kid nearly shouted, slapping hands with Ambrose and O'Neil.

"Hey guys," Cena said. "This is my new friend Anthony."

"That's cool," O'Neil said. "What do you like to do, tough guy?"

"I'm actually well enough to go out for basketball tryouts next month, so I'm pumped for that!" Anthony asserted.

Ambrose whistled and pointed to Cena and O'Neil. "Can you jump higher than these guys? I mean I know you can beat me."

"Man, don't even," O'Neil said as Cena and Anthony laughed. "I can beat all y'all in the back."

"Tell that to Adrian Neville," Cena added, pointing down the hall. Neville overheard them and waved.

"Awesome! Can I meet him, too?" Anthony asked.

"You bet," Cena answered, patting the boy's shoulder. "Bring him down to Earth while you're at it."

Anthony went over to Neville. Cena turned to the others and said, "He sure is loving this. His cancer actually went into remission three days ago."

"That's great," O'Neil responded. "Man, you have no idea how happy hearing things like that makes me.

"I feel ya," Cena said, straightening his new light blue cap.

"Yeah," Ambrose interjected, crossing his arms. The opening _RAW _theme began to blare throughout the arena "I'd love to get involved with something like that."

"You should, dude," O'Neil urged, nudging the Cincinnati native. "There's nothing like working with kids.

"I've looked into Big Brothers. I just wouldn't be comfortable with the media attention it'd get," Ambrose explained. "Not tooting my horn or anything, but you know how it is now. I don't like that."

"Well, that's part of our package with the company," O'Neil said.

"I have to agree with him, TO," Cena said. "I did Make A Wish for years, and I wanted no part of the cameras. The exposure does feel off."

"It's great for the promotion," O'Neil replied. "But I getcha. Don't want to be famous for it. I mean the kids sure deserve the camera.

"Yeah, it's about the kids, not the corporate tie-in. But try telling Vince to tone down the cameras and stuff. Different strokes, I guess," Ambrose said.

"Preaching to the choir," Cena said, walking off. "Preaching to the choir."

As soon as Cena walked away, the familiar sound of an engine revving up hit the air, followed by an enormous roar from the crowd. Ambrose patted O'Neil's shoulder and headed for the curtain.

A few minutes later, Ambrose strutted around in the ring, microphone in hand. He raised his eyebrows a couple of times before lifting the microphone up to finally speak.

"Bray Wyatt," he began, accenting the last name with a drawl. "You said last Friday on _SmackDown! _that you'd be seeing me tonight. You claim you're everywhere, so you can already see me. But why don't you come out and see me man to man?"

He paused as the WWE Universe cheered in approval, chanting Ambrose's last name.

"Or..." the Lunatic Fringe continued. "I could just come back there to your little hidey hole and smash that stupid little lantern over your head, break that rockin' chair over that overgrown grease monkey Luke Harper, and Erick Rowan... Ha. So large and yet I forgot that big green lug is even around most of the time. He hits like a girl so that left no impression..."

Ambrose was interrupted by a garble of static and flashing images on the Titantron. The whole building went black, then became illuminated again by cellphone lights and a lone spotlight on the stage. Wyatt stood there, smiling and swaying to the delight of the fans.

"Such powerful words, Dean," he started, pacing back and forth slowly as he spoke. "Such passion, such courage. You mock how we strike, but were you mocking us when you were almost coughing up blood on Friday?"

Wyatt began to laugh as he took his place on the center of the stage, inching closer to the ramp. "I am everywhere, but here I am in the flesh! And yet, you do not move to attack. Very wise, Dean. Your feverish impulses do not drive you in this moment. What is it? Is it the adoration of these people?"

The strange figure lowered himself to the ground, microphone in hand, and turned and bridged himself up. He slowly began to perform the spider walk down the ramp several paces before stopping to yell. "What compels you, Dean?! What compels you?!" Wyatt rose, not brushing his long hair away from his face. "Is it courage? No, you've been prone to run before as a villain."

Wyatt turned his head back and forth to the fans, then kept going. "Her voice compels me. One of only a few things. But Abagail's voice is the strongest, and trust me, she is far from dead."

Ambrose picked up the conversation as Wyatt stalled temporarily. "What else, Bray? Everything you've tried to accomplish is dead, like you say you are. You talk about these abstract, noble causes, making the world in your image. I find your little riddles fascinating, but the world between these ropes is all that matters."

"These people know the reality of what I speak!" Wyatt roared. "If you don't believe me, see for yourself."

He gestured toward the big screen, a clip beginning to play. It showed not Bray Wyatt, but his former persona Husky Harris, hunched over in the locker room area. The former Nexus plebe yelled as CM Punk lashed him over and over with a leather strap.

The clip ended, and Wyatt laughed manically, hunching over as the fans chanted Punk's name. "That is one of my greatest feats!" he proclaimed. "I have a thousand faces and a million names, and I took the lowliest, most insignificant-looking one I have to take abuse from your hero!" He pointed to the partisan Punk fan base. "A hero...who was destroyed by a so-called demon that I destroyed."

Another clip played, this time showing CM Punk getting chokeslammed by Corporate Kane into a table at the 2014 Royal Rumble.

"Your hero is a weak, broken shell of a man," Wyatt said. "And by taking his abuse, I showed you all how your idols really are! I rose from it, always with the goal in mind to show you, to destroy those idols and the ones you have now, and to bring you to that true enlightenment Abagail showed me long ago." The fans booed heavily.

"Cut the crap, Bray!" Ambrose shouted, getting closer to the ropes. "You're not dealing with an idol. You're not even dealing with a lunatic fringe. I've never been on the edge or even on the mountain. I will, however, stand on your rotten liar body."

He began to go through the ropes, but the Wyatt graphic played again. As the lights came back on, Wyatt was gone, and Ambrose, back in the center of the ring, turned to see Luke Harper's meaty fist fly at his face...


	9. Chapter 9

"Stop! Stop! Ring the bell!"

The ring bell dinged over and over, seemingly keeping time with Ambrose's arms as they rapidly flew onto Harper's kidneys, his ribs, anything Ambrose could see. He rolled the Wyatt family member around the ring with powerful kicks, forcing him out of the ring and onto the floor. Ambrose bolted to the announcers' area and folded up a steel chair.

The fans didn't care that Ambrose suffered another disqualification loss; the impromptu match had been short, sweet, and all led to this point. Men, women, and children all cheered the furious rebel on as he jumped onto the announce table, sprinted across, and leapt onto a barely recovering Harper, crushing him with the chair.

The Lunatic Fringe scrambled to his feet like a drunken madman. He picked up the chair by the top side and flung it onto Harper's big frame. With bugged-out eyes, he ambled near the end of the entrance ramp, yelling as loud as he could.

"Don't send that garbage to fight me, Bray! Fight me yourself! I own you!"

Ambrose continued to rant as the cameras cut to go to break. He soon made his way up the ramp and to the back.

The next night, in the same city and in the same building, Ambrose was scheduled to face Erick Rowan in a matchup for _Main_ _Event_. Once again, the fight was preceded by a backstage promo, this time conducted from another grungy-looking backstage area.

"When I was just a boy," Ambrose began, his face slightly covered by his trademark hoodie. "my mother told me to stay out of the dirt, to never touch filthy things. And of course, she always told me to take out the trash, and I did. Kind of a conflicting message, don't you think? Humph, I guess if the bag covers the trash, it's fine but if the bag rips... Never mind!"

Ambrose flipped up his hood, staring a hole into the camera with furious eyes.

"The point is, Wyatt Family, you're all garbage. Filthy, smelly, dripping with the crap that flies out of your leader's mouth! But I'm not afraid to get my hands on you... I relish in it. I love getting my hands dirty. It's just like taking out the trash."

The frazzled Ohioan turned his head and dipped it forward, his wet blond locks dangling before his eyes, and continued to speak, darting his eyes forward again.

"Ah, as much as I love these comparisons and little stories like you do, Bray, I'll just shoot straight with ya. Don't you send me those two weak bodyguards after me. Your brothers said in that first video that they did to send them someone, just not anybody we wanted back. I tell you the same if you want them back. And when I see you again and get my hands on you, the buzzards won't want to touch what's left of you. Follow that."

As the crowd roared after Ambrose's last line, a large green figure knocked him to the ground. Ambrose rolled away, clutching his ribs as Rowan continued his ambush with heavy kicks. He picked the fallen fan favorite up and rammed him into some nearby boxes. As he tried to pull Ambrose by his hair, the young man launched a right cross at Rowan's jaw. The two continued to trade blows, gradually making it to the entryway. Fans hooted and hollered as the fight spilled down the ramp and two the ring.

The fight was a messy, even affair until Rowan kneed Ambrose's midsection and tossed him into the ring. He stomped to the ringside area and got a steel chair much like his adversary did the previous night.

On shaky legs, Ambrose hoisted himself up using the ropes. As Rowan went to strike, Ambrose risked it all and executed his slingshot clothesline in spite of the pain that wracked his arm as bone met chair. Rowan toppled over with Ambrose following suit, gasping in agony and clutching his arm.

Despite the pain, Ambrose forced Rowan under the ropes and to the floor. He took the chair and kept his eye on the staggering enemy. The Lunatic Fringe ran to the opposite ropes and sprung off them, quickening his pace and jettisoning himself and the chair through the ropes and into Rowan.

The WWE Universe all jumped out of their seats, gasping, cheering, and chanting "Holy Shit!" at the stunt they just witnessed.

Ambrose rose to his feet, nearly collapsing.

"You didn't listen!" he roared. "You didn't listen!"


	10. Chapter 10

UPDATE: Hey everyone. Thanks so much for sticking with me as the story goes on! With my work schedule, sometimes I can only get in a chapter a week, but I will try to get more. Thank you for your kind feedback. Enjoy!

The fans began their fevered chanting of "USA!" yet again as Titus O'Neil slid into the ring and stood tall, staring holes into the burly Bulgarian in front of him. Heath Slater couldn't join his partner in standing toe-to-toe with Rusev and the luscious Lana, seeing as he was trying to lift himself up in the corner, wiping blood from his teeth after he attempted to fell the undefeated Russian sympathizer on _Smackdown!_.

"Get out of here before you get hurt!" Lana said in her exotic yet grating voice.

"You're going to try me?!" Rusev shouted in his thick accent, slapping his hand across O'Neil's chest.

O'Neil instantly retaliated, shoving Rusev to the mat with ferocity, the USA chants giving way to approving cheers from the crowd.

"You damn right I am!" O'Neil roared, pacing to the corner and helping Slater up as Lana went to attend to, and quell the fury of, the hero of the Russian Federation.

Yelling and cursing, the foreign duo retreated as Slater Gator posed for the crowd to the delight of the people.

Lana and Rusev came through the curtain in a huff, and in doing so, bolted straight into Sami Zayn, who was warming up.

"Oh, crap! Sorry, Sam," Lana said, the Florida native no longer disguising her voice.

"Geez, you're sure in a hurry," Zayn replied, brushing himself off. "Can't blame ya. Great segment!"

"Thanks," Lana said. Rusev, still catching his breath, gave Zayn a thumbs up as the two left.

A few moments passed as Zayn gave props to Slater Gator as they returned from the ring. A backstage agent pointed to Zayn and the well-traveled grappler began to kick up his heels. A mix of guitar strums, drum beats, and blaring horns sounded as Zayn trotted outside to the stage. The raucous Chicago crowd voiced their approval voiced their approval for the recent callup from NXT.

"Here comes our most exciting newcomer, Sami Zayn!" Michael Cole said as a beaming Zayn slapped hands with fans at ringside.

"This kid's gonna be even more special than he already is. I can't wait!" JBL added as Zayn slid into the ring, jogging to the beat of his ska-style entrance theme.

The elation was short-lived, for as soon as Zayn turned to face one of the cameras, the Titantron flickered and the arena plunged into blackness. The giant screen now showed Bray Wyatt standing before a similarly colored backdrop, fedora in hand.

"Much like you, man who wears many nations," Wyatt said to the young Canadian, referencing the many images of world flags on his tights. "I just can't sit down."

Wyatt tilted his head up, a wicked grin barely visible in the darkness. "It's a tragedy that you have to be in my world tonight, Samuel. But you are of little concern tonight. Tonight, I have something to say to my old friend Dean."

"My brothers go out on their own accord, simply taking my lessons and acting of their own free will. Sure, blame the teacher when the students do so well! You know all about that, don't you? It's only by foolish luck that you survived their onslaught. Talent can only go so far. Remember that, Dean."

Wyatt paced back and forth before stopping abruptly. "You said I didn't listen, man!" he yelled, throwing his arms out. "I did listen! I listened to Abigail! And her voice has never been clearer than it has been now."

The lights flickered again as the screen went black. When they came back on, Wyatt was already in the ring and putting the boot to Zayn. He pounded and pounded away at the young wrestler, backing him into a corner despite the referee trying to pull the big man off of him.

Wyatt slapped the hunched-over Zayn right across the face and then turned to shove the referee. The madman's eyes widened as both of his victims struggled to get up. He then ran to the other side of the ropes, bounded off of them, and hurled his entire body at the referee, nearly crushing him.

The audience gasped as Wyatt rose to his feet, letting out a guttural yell. He left the ring and lifted the ring skirt up, reaching for a steel chair. He then came back up to face Zayn, who had gotten up from his assault. Zayn was trembling from head to toe in anger, teeth bared and fists up in a fighting position.

Wyatt, with a similar look on his face, tossed the chair down and screamed, "Come on!" Zayn rushed forward and struck Wyatt with a hard right fist across the face. The Eater of Worlds fell to the canvas while Zayn took to the top rope. The international sensation leapt to strike again, but was caught by the throat by a recovering Wyatt. With Zayn in his clutches, he whirled around and hit Sister Abigail on the steel chair.

Taking a couple of seconds to breathe, Wyatt kicked Zayn's limp form off of the chair, picked up the weapon, and slammed it off of the victim's body again and again.

"Come on, Dean! It's all you!" Wyatt cried, facing the entrance ramp. He kneeled over to cradle Zayn's head in his hands. "Don't you get it, Samuel? It's all him..."

And then the arena plunged into blackness again.


	11. Chapter 11

I apologize for not updating the story as often as I projected. As I have said, I work in writing and publishing and have been booked with many work projects. I've gotten burned out a little bit and took time for lighter stories. But I am still committed to bringing the story to a close by the end of the year, so I promise to update more often. Thank you so much for your responses!

Showers and showers of boos pelted wrestling's power couple as they came on screen. Triple H and Stephanie McMahon just finished giving each other an Eskimo kiss, much to the general disgust of the Atlantans in attendance for _RAW_.

The COO and principal owner of WWE turned away from each other, facing someone off camera.

"Sorry to keep you waiting. So what's up?" Triple H asked.

The camera panned to an irate-looking Sami Zayn, who clenched his fists and shook.

"I want Wyatt. In that ring. RIGHT. NOW." Zayn answered.

"Join the club, Sami," McMahon said.

"She's right," Triple H added. "We've already got one unhinged lunatic going after Bray Wyatt at all hours of the day. We don't need someone else running around like a madman..."

The door flung open as Triple H spoke.

"Speak of the devil," he sighed as Dean Ambrose stepped into the room.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, _boy_?" McMahon snarled. "Don't you know how to knock?"

"No no no, Steph. It's okay," her husband interrupted. "Let me guess. Bray Wyatt."

"You're damn right," Ambrose growled. "Sami, I like ya, but step aside."

"Don't you tell me my business!" Zayn retorted. The two got in each other's faces.

"Hey! Cool it!" Triple H shouted, breaking the two apart. "I've got enough on my plate without the nuthouse opening up! Survivor Series is in six days, and we're going to make it a success!"

"Look," the Billion Dollar Princess began, regaining her composure. "We know you two want to get your hands on Bray Wyatt. Two young guns looking to make their mark. You may find your spot at our Pay Per View yet, but let's make a compromise."

Ambrose and Zayn eyed her curiously. Triple H smiled.

"I got it. How about you two team up tonight...against Harper and Rowan of the Wyatt Family?"

The two young wrestlers nodded and turned to leave. McMahon stepped toward Triple H and smiled.

"That was easy," she said. Triple H just chuckled.

_"Such control," _Zayn thought to himself. The Canadian grappler stood on the apron, eyeing Ambrose as he stomped on Harper's back and slowly bent over to hook his hands in Harper's mouth, wrenching back. Zayn took his eyes off of the two in the ring to gaze at Rowan in the opposite corner. The bald man with the fiery facial hair simply smiled as muffled screams came from the ring.

Zayn snapped his eyes back to the action and saw Harper gator-rolling the Lunatic Fringe around the mat. Harper had pushed his adversary to his corner and, standing on Ambrose's wild locks, tagged in Rowan. Everything had happened so fast.

Rowan began his assault, picking up Ambrose and press slamming him to the mat. After a failed cover, he slapped on a rear chinlock, a wrestling standby.

The crowd began to clap in a rallying effort while Zayn stomped on the stairs. Ambrose's face contorted in pain as the pressure to his jaw intensified; Rowan's face became equally as harried. He lifted his hands only for a second as he applied the double fists to Ambrose's temples, but not to the total effect he wanted. Ambrose took Rowan's beefy arms and began to wrench them away as he rose to his feet. He finally landed a front push kick to Rowan's midsection before Harper blasted him from behind.

The crowd responded to Harper's sneak attack with a shower of boos, you sucks, and aw mans. As Ambrose buckled and the referee tried to buffer Harper back, Zayn leapt to the top rope and catapulted himself into a distracted Rowan with a missile dropkick. The burly psycho tumbled through the ropes at the regular camera side, falling on his shoulder and groaning.

Harper was momentarily stunned due to the scene, but was immediately felled by Ambrose's catapult clothesline. Ambrose struck his own face repeatedly, flinging perspiration all over the ring. He formed his fingers into a pistol shape, firing a metaphorical death shot into Harper as he fumbled about in pain. He shot a glance at Zayn and nodded, and with that, Zayn ran the ropes and performed a perfect senton flip over the ropes and onto Rowan's chest cavity.

Harper didn't see the action around him this time. Ambrose locked his greasy head under his arm and swung back, crushing the trucker's face with his new double-arm DDT.

"One! Two! Three!"

The referee counted the victory and the Georgia Dome erupted as Zayn and Ambrose were declared the winners.

"Now that's what you call a barn burner!" JBL called.

"Dean Ambrose and Sami Zayn! What a match..." Cole began. As he spoke, the lights shut off, drenching the arena in that familiar blackness. The lights flickered on again, and Bray Wyatt stood atop the announcer's table.

"What the hell?" Lawler uttered, the other announcers speechless.

Wyatt stood silent, a sick grin curling his lips. Ambrose kneeled and held his ribs, but not before calling out to his rival.

"Get over. Get over here you bastard!" Ambrose rasped through his teeth.

Wyatt laughed as Harper amble over to his leader. He pointed straight at the ramp, and Ambrose turned and gasped.

Rowan was beginning to get up while Zayn locked his eyes on Wyatt. Before Zayn could move, he plummeted face first to the floor. Behind him was Rusev, who had just thrown a huge side kick to the back of Zayn's head.

Ambrose started to make his way to fight the Bulgarian Brute, tying up with him as he made it to the ropes. The offense was short-lived, though; Wyatt grabbed Ambrose from behind and dropped him with a loose urinage slam. Both men began to stomp on Ambrose as Rowan stood guard, his foot on Zayn's back, Harper was still dazed from the new Dirty Deeds DDT.

The usual negative reaction and audience catcalling had filled the arena once again, and like most brawls turned to cheers again as help arrived. As the assault continued, O'Neil and Slater rushed down the ramp and bowled Rowan over. Rusev and Wyatt met Slater Gator head-on as the new crowd favorites hit the ring, swinging with wild fists. After a momentary tussle, Rusev fell through the ropes after a fallaway slam from O'Neil and a heel kick from Slater. Wyatt rolled out of harm's way after Ambrose leveled him with a Lou Thez press.

"The whole loony bin has emptied in Atlanta!" JBL yelled at the desk.

"A powder keg has exploded here on _Monday Night RAW! _Amazing!" Cole added.

Rusev and the Wyatts doubled back as Zayn crawled back into the ring and was helped to his feet by the three heroes. Rusev cursed in his native tongue, Harper and Rowan glared at their opposition, and Wyatt couldn't help but smile. Meanwhile, the babyfaces kept challenging the heels to come in and fight again, Ambrose's music hitting the air.

Backstage, Triple H and Stephanie McMahon were all smiles as well. Both of them looked at each other, happy that their plan had gone so well.


End file.
